


of long-awaited sunrises and better tomorrows

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending AU, good times only
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2020-01-24 09:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18568390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: In this life, Noctis still finds brotherhood and friendship in the right people. In this life, Noctis is free - but more importantly, he is allowed to be happy.So he is.





	of long-awaited sunrises and better tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> this is my piece for [@NoctZine](https://twitter.com/noctzine)!! everyone's works are so lovely, i'm really honoured to be a part of this zine. thanks to the mods and my fellow participants for all their hard work!
> 
> i named this "happy ending au" in my docs because that's the best gift i can give this boy. he deserves it, they all do.

 

 

On Noctis’ fifth birthday, Gladio smashes cake on his face and runs away cackling. Noctis stares after his cousin, three whole years older and yet not much mature. 

“Gladio, you big meanie!” he shouts. He grabs his half-finished plate of cake and hops off the fancy chair of the restaurant. 

“Where are you going, Noctis?”

Noctis peers up at his father. A lump of whipped cream slides down his cheek. “Gladio,” he says simply. 

Regis laughs. He ruffles Noctis’ hair, picking out a stray strawberry. “Go get him, son.”

They end up with cake all over their hair and clothes and a disappointed Clarus lecturing them while Regis and their mothers look on in amusement. Someone manages to take enough pictures to fill two entire pages in the family album.

 

 

 

 

The Nox Fleurets move in next door the year Noctis turns eight.

Ravus is tall, scowl-y, and generally scary. But Luna is like a princess, graceful and beautiful and kind. She tells stories of ancestral weapons and a boy prince and his brothers-in-arms and a desperate quest to save a kingdom. Noctis is captivated by her serene smile and her starlit eyes, but most of all, he’s fascinated with the tales she weaves from her dreams.

“Did the prince win?” he asks from his spot on the floor. Iris echoes his question from beside him, slapping the carpet with her sticky hands. “Did he beat the dark?”

“King,” Luna says, “He’d become a King.” She hums thoughtfully. “Yes, I suppose he did. He brought back the dawn and restored peace to the world.”

“A hero,” Noctis says.

Luna nods. “Yes. A hero king.”

“And then he marries the princess and lives happily ever after!” Iris pipes up.

Smiling, Luna kneels down next to her to wipe the jam off her face. “Perhaps, in another life, in a kinder universe, after all is said and done, the king goes home and the princess finally has a chance to wear that dress. But for this story, it is enough that they rest. They all deserved it, don’t you think?”

Iris pouts, wanting a fairy tale wedding. But Noctis is staring at the little flower attached the chain around Luna’s neck. It’s a brilliant blue, with slender, elegant petals—he’s sure he’s never seen anything like it before, yet the flower strikes a chord of familiarity somewhere in his chest.

He doesn’t ask about the ending to that tale anymore.

 

 

 

 

Prompto accidentally-on-purpose trips into his life on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon.

Fifth grade Noctis is a quiet kid, a smart kid, a good kid who hands in his homework on time so the teachers would leave him alone when he pulls out his sketchbook during class. Maybe he keeps to himself a little too much, which makes him an easy target to corner by the gardens after school.

Having Gladio as a cousin taught Noctis many things about dodging and reading movements. He’s smaller than they are, but he knows where to hit and how to run.

But nothing prepared him for the blond blur that darts in front of him. The bullies didn’t expect Noctis to have a friend, either. They scramble quickly after the newcomer bluffs about having called a teacher. Noctis is left alone in the gardens with a boy he recognizes as the shy kid who sits in the back and wanders home with a camera in his hands.

“I’m Prompto,” the boy says, and when he smiles at Noctis, there’s an afterimage of sunset stretching across the horizon. When he reaches out a hand to help Noctis to his feet, there’s an echo of laughter over the crackling of a campfire.

“I could have handled that by myself,” Noctis tells him. He takes the hand anyway. Prompto’s palm is warm, and their hands fit together like a lock sliding into place.

“I know,” Prompto says, “but you don’t have to.”

And from that moment on, sunshine and bad jokes and video game marathons enter Noctis’ life and never really leaves.

 

 

 

 

He’s introduced to one Ignis Scientia halfway through the second semester of his freshman year.

“I don’t need a tutor,” Noctis insists. 

“Your grades say otherwise,” Ignis says. He ignores Noctis’ glare and continues, “I’ve looked over your past report cards. You’re a bright kid, Noctis. The sudden decline in your academics say less about your intelligence and more about the stress of adjusting to a new environment. You’re allowed to struggle, Noctis.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

Ignis’ smile is wry, but his gaze is steady. Noctis meets those green eyes, and the restlessness fluttering in his ribcage finally settles.

When Noctis slams down his final grades - all A’s - Ignis trades him a box of homemade pastries. He can’t quite figure out the ingredients, but the tarts melt on his tongue like childhood nostalgia. 

He tells Ignis it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

 

 

 

 

His father takes a bad fall in his third year of high school.

“Don’t look so down, son,” Regis says, chortling as if he’s not confined to bed rest and then stuck with crutches and then a knee brace and then -

“I’m sorry,” Noctis says. “I should have been there.”

Regis shakes his head. “You were out having fun. What kind of a father would I be to steal you away from your friends?” He reaches over and pats Noctis on the knee. “This isn’t your fault, Noctis. Keep your head up. Your father won’t be so easily defeated yet.”

Noctis looks at his father. There are new wrinkles on his face, years of stress and laughter that Noctis hadn’t taken the time to note down. He knows, rationally, that there’s a high chance of recovery and his father will still be here when he comes back from school, but Noctis is suddenly gripped with the fear of running out of time.

“Dad,” he says. “When you get better, let’s—let’s go on a fishing trip, yeah? Just the two of us.”

Regis looks at him, green eyes warm and bright as they always are when they gaze at his son. “I’d like that.”

 

 

 

 

“Hey, guys,” Noctis says two-thirds of the way through their monthly movie night. Ignis’ choice this time, some docu-drama about religions long since abandoned and prophecies gone past. He’s seen it before, and it still irked him the way people used to worship those gods so blindly. 

“What is it, Noct?” Prompto nudges the bowl of chips against Noctis’ elbow.

Noctis nudges it back. “You know how our parents are planning to throw a ridiculous graduation party for us?”

“Yeah, lucky you,” Gladio says from the armchair. “My dad just sat me down for a can of beer.”

Noctis ignores him. He takes a deep breath. “How do you guys feel about a graduation trip afterwards? Just the four of us. We can take the whole summer, drive down to visit Luna at her new place. Make our way back in time for school to start.”

“A road trip with the bros?” 

“That’s a long time to be stuck with you nerds.”

“Hey, you’re the nerd who likes camping for some reason!”

Ignis is studying Noctis. “Have you talked to your father about this?”

“Yeah. Sort of. A little.” Noctis crosses his arms. “Look, it’s up to you guys. But I want to—I want to see the world before I start university. My dad’s always talking about having fun while I can, anyway. And, look, ever since Specs and Gladio graduated, we haven’t been able to meet up as much. And Prompto, you’re going to that arts school, right? Things are going to change. I know that. So before that happens, I just thought, I just...”

The movie plays on, but none of them are paying attention now. Three pairs of eyes watch Noctis carefully. 

“What do you guys say?” he asks.

They look at each other. Gladio shrugs. Prompto grins. Ignis sighs, reaching up to adjust his glasses.

“I’ll start planning the itinerary,” Ignis says.

“You can leave the car stuff to me,” Gladio says.

“I’m going to make the sickest playlist,” Prompto says.

Noctis looks at his friends. These are the guys he trusts and treasures more than anything else in the world. These are the guys he's willing to die for.

A sudden twinge in his chest, right above his heart. His throat feels tight.

“You guys are the best,” Noctis says, a smile blooming across his face like a sunrise.

 

 

 

 

In this life, Noctis is twenty years old, young and stupid and uncertain in the face of the future looming before him. He’s still figuring out where he stands in this world that has no need for martyrs or chosen ones. 

In this life, Noctis is twenty years old, armed with a sketchbook and the ready smiles of his best friends. He stares fate in the eyes and sees vast infinites spread out before him. He takes a step forwards into tomorrow.

He walks tall.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> my sister, with .2 knowledge of what ffxv is, read the zine before i did and asked me why everyone ended their fics with "he walked tall" and i immediately burst into tears
> 
> find me crying about one beautiful prince @puddingcatbae on tumblr and twitter!!


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